


Hot

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 08:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10486848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: In the Eldin Caves, Link desperately needs a Goron tunic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for “Fire” prompt on [my bingo card](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/158937866370/fic-bingo).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“We could set the barrier here, then guide our own forces around the North bend.” Volga draws a line through the air, indicating his battle plans, and waits for a grunt of assent—all he ever really gets out of this one ally. He doesn’t expect Link to verbally encourage him, but it would still be nice to get _some_ kind of agreement. When nothing comes, Volga drops his arm and turns back, ready to scowl his way into response.

Link isn’t even looking at him. Instead, Link’s sky-blue eyes are closed, thick lashes heavy against his cheeks, golden brows drawn together. His skin is flushed pink, washed redder in the orange glow of the lava pits, glistening here and there in dabs of sweat. Link has one finger in the front of his tunic, drawing it away from his chest, his scarf already unraveled and tucked into his belt. His head tilts back, lips parted wide to pant. He’s breathing long and hard. For a moment, Volga forgets everything he was going to say.

Instead, he watches a single bead of sweat trickle down Link’s jaw to dip beneath his chin and slide along his throat, disappearing under his collar. It occurs to Volga just how many needless layers Link’s wearing—the mail under his tunic, the armour over his shoulder, the gauntlets and hat and pouches along his belt. The poor thing must be roasting. Volga often forgets that for most, that’s a bad thing.

His own armour is twice as thick, but he _loves_ the fire. He loves these caves. And now he loves watching Link struggle inside them, rasping hoarsely for breath. He fought better than this, Volga’s sure, the first time he came—but that was life or death then, and he probably had no time to stop and melt. Now they’ve only come to fortify their future keeps and plan for the upcoming battle, and Link has a moment just to _breathe._

He looks like he longs for the cool air outside, and if Volga were a better man, he might sweep Link there in a heartbeat on giant wings.

But he’s a dragon that loves to horde all things _beautiful_ , and Link is certainly that. By the time Link’s lashes finally flutter up, Volga’s done nothing but stare. Link’s pupils are dilated, the blue all the more brilliant in the firelight. He swipes his pink tongue across his plush lips, parting them, but says nothing, just looks at Volga expectantly. Volga fully planned to be the one who talked; Link’s just along to nod or shake his head. Volga knows these caves better than anyone. Volga also knows that so long as they have this treasure, they’ll win regardless of plans, regardless of grueling terrain. Link tilts his head, but Volga still has nothing.

He wishes vainly that he could wrap Link in whatever magic might keep him safe and bathe with him in the lava. Perhaps he’d be suffering less if he were stripped down. Although, Volga does enjoying seeing him sweat...

Volga means to suggest a change of costume anyway. He steps forward, ready to help, to hold Link’s clothes over his arms as Link peels it all away bit by bit, but he reaches Link with no words on his tongue.

He dives down to kiss Link instead and sizzles along Link’s captivating mouth; Link only surges back to meet him.


End file.
